


Remember, Remember

by AlwaysJohn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Just a bit of angst with a happy ending, M/M, remembering the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 23:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysJohn/pseuds/AlwaysJohn
Summary: Remembering some of the a bit not good points in their lives. And always, with love and care.





	Remember, Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Another NaNoWriMo 2017 with a bit of dark, followed by light.

“John?” Sherlock called softly, as it was still very early and Mrs. Hudson didn’t take kindly to his habit of bellowing for John. 

He’d awakened slowly, stretching out toward the side of the bed that should have contained his warm and sturdy former army doctor, only to find a cold sheet, duvet pushed back and no John.

Pulling on his pyjamas, and adding a smirk to his mouth as he remembered what they had got up to the night before, he stumbled a bit while his brain came on line. The delicious scent of John’s favorite tea led his sensitive nose and the rest of him toward the kitchen.

“John?”

Moving further into the kitchen, he spied John standing beside the fridge, staring out the small window. There wasn’t much other than shadows of distant building as the window had never been clear in all the years they’d lived here. Such was city life, he thought.

“John?”

“Hm?””

“All right?”

“Mmm,” murmured John, sipping his tea. 

Oh, a mug, something serious, then, Sherlock observed as he stepped forward to circle his long arms around John’s waist, dipping his head to press a kiss to his neck.

John sighed, leaning into the contact. “Morning, love. Sleep well?”

“As long as you were beside me. You?”

“Woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I left you to it so I wouldn’t disturb you.”

“Very kind of you, John?”

“I’m fine, Sherlock, really. Just not quite awake yet.”

“Breakfast? Full English?”

John set his tea on the worktop, turned into Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his lower back and resting his head against his chest. 

“God, no, Sherlock. Don’t think I’d be able to get all that down. Just the thought of it-just no. Maybe an egg with toast and jam?”

“I know you aren’t pregnant, so what is it?”

John chuckled and finally smiled up at him.

“Oh, nothing, really. Just a little off, I suppose. Don’t fret, Sherlock, it will pass.”

Squinting his eyes at John was too little incentive to get him to release his thoughts, but Sherlock knew not to push. “Very well, I’ll take you at your word for now, but if I-”

“It’s all fine, love. It is.”

Sherlock held him, leaning his cheek against John’s sleep-mussed hair. When it concerned John, his instinct was never wrong, not since the early days when he had just begun to unravel the mystery that was John Watson. Now, a few years on, he had a good sense of the man, and what he saw now was not all fine. Not at all.

The mystery remained as John extricated himself from their embrace and opened the fridge as if to gather what was needed for breakfast.

“John.”

His doctor looked up at him with an absent-minded gaze, his thoughts obviously somewhere else. 

“Why don’t you shower while I prepare breakfast. It will help.”

“Do I smell?”

Sherlock smiled softly at the twitch to the corner of John’s mouth, but it was that dangerous glint in his eye that warned him to stand down. “You smell like John. Even when you are smelly and revolting, I can still discern the John-ness of you.”

“Thank you, Sherlock, I think, was that a compliment?”

“If you would like it to be, then, yes.”

“Okay, thank you again. And I will shower. I won’t be long.”

“You never dawdle when I am not sharing the water with you.”

Though John’s smile was genuinely lovely, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sherlock returned his smile with one of his best sexy leers, pleased to watch John as he walked away.

“Stop looking at my arse, Sherlock.”

“Sorry. Not sorry. I love your arse. It’s a very fine arse.”

“Mutual, Sherlock. It’s mutual.”

“Don’t make me blush, but thank you, John,” Sherlock murmured when he thought John was out of earshot.

“Heard that,” John called over his shoulder, wriggling his behind as he disappeared into the bath. “I may not be as observant as you are, but I have excellent hearing,” he called out just before closing the door.

Sherlock chuckled, turned toward the fridge and stopped with his fingers on the handle when his eyes rested on the small calendar John used to keep track of his hours at the surgery. There, round the current date, was a bold, red circle. 

Stepping back, Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, aware of John turning on the water, the slide of the shower curtain, the thump of the body wash when John inevitably dropped it, and the curse that followed. The detective’s toes cramped in sympathy. 

After gathering the eggs, bread and jam, Sherlock preheated the pan on the cooker, set the water to boil for their tea and popped four slices of bread into the toaster, his movements by rote while he searched his Mind Palace for the meaning of the date circled on the calendar.

When John turned off the water in the shower, Sherlock transposed the tasks in his Mind Palace to return to his breakfast preparations. The toast popped up just as John walked up behind him, pressing himself against Sherlock’s back.

“How’s it going?”

The detective’s heart stuttered in his chest at John’s shower- warm embrace.

“Umm, toast is up, jam’s on the table, plates, utensils, mugs, tea bags, aaaand the eggs are done. Sit, John. I’ll serve.” 

“Looks good.”

“Breakfast?”

John smiled up at him, pulling him down to peck a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Starving,” he said, his expression telling Sherlock he remembered their post-cabby dinner.

Sitting opposite John was the best way to observe him surreptitiously, but he refused to deduce John this time, preferring instead to simply enjoy his company.

Simple. The word echoed through the halls of his Mind Palace. Simple moments. Simple memories. That’s what mattered to John. Not the big, the loud, the audacious, but the soft, profound points in time.

“Okay, Sherlock?”

“What? Oh, yes, just thinking.”

“Something special, or something bothering you?”

“A bit of both, I think.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Thank you, John, but not at this time.”

At the odd look John gave him, Sherlock smiled as naturally as he could, trying to reign in his mind which, annoyingly, and predictably, dwelled on that red circle on the fridge calendar.

Across the table, John devoured his two eggs and two slices of toast and jam, blissfully unaware of his frustrating conundrum. When only the tea remained, as John liked to savor it, Sherlock hurried to eat his eggs so John would not notice, glancing at the page of the daily news visible when John held it upright.

ST. BART’S LAB TO BE REMODELED

Sherlock leaned forward just enough to read the smaller print without drawing John’s attention. 

The lab, famous as the first meeting place of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, is scheduled to be remodeled, beginning tomorrow, the day following the actual date of the famous meeting, according to Dr. Watson’s blog post..

Sherlock glanced once more at John’s calendar and smiled. This called for a special moment. 

“I have to shower now,” Sherlock announced, standing up suddenly. “And then we are going out. No questions asked, John. You do the washing up while I shower. Wear the jacket.”

“What jacket?”

“The one you wore...on the night you shot the cabby.”

“Why? What do you have in that head of yours that we need to go someplace in such a hurry? You remember that you aren’t my commanding officer, yeah?”

“No questions, John. Just nod your head and do what I ask just this one time. Please.”

“Just this one time? I do everything you ask nearly a hundred percent of the time.” John stared at him for a long moment, sighing dramatically. “Okay, but can I at least finish my tea?”

“Of course, John. I would never deprive my doctor of his tea.”  
Sherlock grinned at him, turned on his socked feet and marched to the bath, leaving John with a confused expression on his lovely face.

0o0

In the shower, Sherlock’s plan fell right into place. John never had to do anything special to surprise him. He just had to be John and do normal John things. He knew he was a better man with John Watson in his life, but rarely had an idea presented itself as a perfect surprise for his army doctor.

Out of the shower and dressed in his customary dark suit and white button-up, no tie, and still in socked feet, Sherlock glided up behind John where he stood at the sink, wiping and storing the last of their breakfast dishes. John didn’t startle when the detective’s hands settled on hips.

“Did I announce my approach? I usually surprise you when I come up behind you.”

“Heard the water shut off, gave you ten minutes for your other ablutions and here you are,” John told him while wiping his hands on a tea towel.

Sherlock leaned down to kiss one of John’s many sensitive spots between neck and shoulder, infinitely pleased by the inevitable shiver. He kissed him again for good measure.

“Okay, what’s our plan?”

“My plan, John, and you will find out when we get there.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Distance is irrelevant, John Watson, but, point in time is essential.”

“Oookay, I just need to brush my teeth since I’m going out.”

“Do hurry, John, as I said, time is of the essence.”

“Just as long as it takes me to sing the ABC song twice.”

“What?”

John hurried away, waving a hand in the air.

“I’ll explain in the cab..we are taking a cab, aren’t we?”

“Yes, John, of course we are taking a cab, and you don’t need to explain the ABC song, although how it correlates with brushing your teeth is perplexing.”

“No need to get your knickers in a twist, Sherlock.”

“John..”

“Whinging doesn’t become you, Sherlock.”

“Shut up, John.”

From where Sherlock stood at the door, his great coat on, hanging open, collar turned up, he could hear John giggle, his previous mood replaced by a moment of levity allowing him a sigh of relief.

“John!”

John hustled from the loo, pulling on his coat as he walked towards the door. Sherlock stayed on his heels as they descended the seventeen steps, guiding John along with a hand on his shoulder so they might avoid a moment or two or fifteen with Mrs. Hudson if she should open her door. He all but shoved John out onto the pavement where a cab waited at the kerb.

The detective pushed John inside and climbed in after him, turning to the window as momentary second thoughts rose in his mind. As soon as the cab pulled away and into traffic, he settled.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“The cab was waiting. Did you order it? You never order a cab. It just magically appears when you raise your hand. And you didn’t tell the cabby where we were going.”

“Don’t be silly, John. It wasn’t a magic trick, just a lucky coincidence.” When he realised the words he’d used: a magic trick, he feared he’d said something a bit not good.

On his periphery, Sherlock observed John open his mouth once, twice, then snap it shut and turn to look out his window. It was a very quiet journey from that moment on. John suddenly seemed uneasy, and once again Sherlock worried that he’d made a bad decision that might hurt John instead of pleasing him with its sentimental intention.

Sherlock folded his long fingers over John’s smaller ones. 

“John, do you trust me?”

“Sherlock, how can you ask me that after all..yes, with my life. Course I do,” John declared with a determined set to his jaw, but there was a flicker of doubt in his dark eyes that Sherlock observed before his doctor turned his gaze to their hands. 

“Course I do,” he whispered.

“Trust me now, John. Please.” 

John nodded, turning back to his window.

0o0

When the cab stopped at the kerb in front of Barts main entrance, there was an audible intake of breath from the opposite side of the cab. John’s hand trembled a bit before he squeezed Sherlock’s fingers.

“It’s okay, John. Trust me for just a few minutes longer.”

John looked at him, more doubt in his expression than just a few minutes ago, but he remained silent, hesitating a bit longer than Sherlock expected. When he finally coaxed his doctor from the cab, John stood staring at the ground while Sherlock paid the cab fare.

Taking John’s hand once again, he led the way to the new door. Going through the other entrance he always used would have been cruel, considering their history.

Sherlock led the way through the lower levels of the hospital, carefully avoiding any area that might cause discomfort for his doctor. Keeping a careful eye on John, noting where they were when his doctor held his hand tighter, he worried when John’s eyes never strayed far from the floor.

Finally Sherlock slowed his brisk pace when the elevator they needed came into view. Only seconds passed until the doors slid open and he escorted John inside, quickly closing the doors to prevent any other passengers to board. 

Slipping his hand into his pocket while John stared at the panel of buttons announcing the floor just past, Sherlock pressed a remote signal on his phone.

Two floors later the doors slid open.

“John! Sherlock! So nice to see you.”

“Mike?” John stepped out to shake Mike’s hand, wearing his first smile since Baker Street. 

“Excuse me,” Sherlock said, stepping away. “I need to use the gents while you two get reacquainted.”

“Sherlock?”

“I won’t be long, John,” he called over his shoulder as he turned the corner. Slipping through a door was like stepping into the past, which was also the moment his new future began, Sherlock tossed his coat on a chair and took his place behind the familiar microscope. Not much had changed in this lab in the time since John had become indispensable, really, his whole world.

Not a minute later, Mike held open the door and stepped aside to let John move past him. Once John was inside, the door closed silently, leaving them alone. Together.

John wore a confused expression for just a few heartbreaking seconds before understanding dawned on his beautiful face.

“Bit different from my day.”

Sherlock bit his lip as John moved toward him, holding out his phone.

“Thank you,” he said, dropping the phone into John’s jacket pocket.

When Sherlock rotated his seat so that he was facing away from the microscope, John stepped between his knees.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Neither. Never again.”

Although his eidetic memory allowed everything he’d said that day to march through his brain, Sherlock refrained from reciting it to John verbatim.

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street.”

John framed his face with his sturdy hands. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered,” he said with feigned hurt in his voice as he exaggerated a glance at his watch so John would notice. “Three, two, one, at this exact moment.”

“How do you know?”

“John, I had a plan.”

“You had a plan?”

“I had a plan, yes. I glanced at the clock over there on the wall the moment you walked into the lab that first moment and I saved it..”

“In your Mind Palace,” John said, shaking his head and giggling.

“How long, Sherlock?”

Sherlock nipped at John’s mouth. “Seems alternately just yesterday or a million lifetimes ago. It’s just a number, John, but if you must know, it’s seven, but what matters most is that we are together now.”

“You remembered, of course you did. It’s all in your Mind Palace?”

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered.

John smiled, his eyes brimming. “You’re right, my love. It is just a number..seven, but a very important one and being together finally is so...brilliant.”

“I love you, John Hamish Watson.”

“And I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Jeez, that’s a mouthful.”

“No, John, this is a mouthful,” Sherlock teased, covering John’s lips with his own.


End file.
